The darkness blurred and shimmered, bringing to life a man of moonlight and darkness: Aryne.

Before him Aryne could see her, lying in bed, tears of loneliness staining her pillow. She made his heart ache. He softly stepped to her side. His hand touched her face and gently pushed back her hair. He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, turning her dreams from sadness to joy. Her body arched toward his touch as the skim of his hand, the heat of his skin traced the edges of her curves. He stepped back…and then within the shimmer of dreams disappeared.

Night after night her loneliness cried to him. Unable to resist, he came to her. Subtly he inserted himself into her dreams, into her arms. Aryne knew it was wrong. As a guide, his job was to bring sweet, peaceful dreams. But no one affected him like she had. He was unable to resist comforting her, drawing her into his arms, covering her body with his…but only in her dreams. There Aryne stole the passion from her lips, igniting an ache in his body that would not go away.

Touching her shattered him. He knew instinctively that her touch would be his downfall. Her touch could keep him here in this splinter of his world, isolated as all of the Outcasts were. Generations had gone by; those exiled had died long ago, their children mixing amongst the races of the universe.

He had tried to
stay away, fearing this. He was adrift, swept away, drowning in her passion, breaths away from losing himself. Giving in, acknowledging the power she unknowingly had over him would condemn him, keep him here if she was unable to travel to his world. Very few could navigate between worlds. And this world would drain his power rather than enhance it. Even the short time he spent there took its toll on him, the drain only in abeyance when he was in her arms. Try as he might, he could not resist her siren call. Only by controlling her and the passion between them could he make sure that he would not become lost. Lost in her. Trapped forever in her world.

He had done his best, gentling her to his hand, to his control. She knew the unspoken rules, knew the consequences. He played them out in her dreams, a dark symphony of passion and restraint. Perhaps unforgivable for a guide, but he could not resist. And just her body was no longer enough. Eventually he would capture her heart and soul.

A man of shadows, it would be during the midnight hours of her slumber.

Beverly Ovalle dabbled with writing on and off for years when her best friend finally dared her to submit a story to a writing contest. Beverly decided she had nothing to lose and since she’d always wanted to be an author sent it in and agonized for months waiting to hear back. Contract in hand she has never looked back.

Beverly has been obsessed with dragons and romance since she was a young girl, collecting dragon books and reading everything she could find on them even down to the care of real life dragons. She’s always been slightly panicked that the world as we know it will end, so has prepped for it, haunting survivalist pages and prepper projects she felt she needed in the event SHTF.

An avid fan of all romance, Beverly’s goal is to share her love of the written word and write the hot and erotic romances that she enjoys. She writes what she loves to read and it was only a matter of time before her obsessions crept into her writing for her to share. She hopes you enjoy her tales as much as she loves writing them.

A Navy Veteran, Beverly has traveled around the world and the United States enabling her to bring her settings to life, meeting and marrying her husband of twenty eight years along the way for her own romance. Reading romances since the fourth grade she’s followed as the genre changed and spread into the vast cornucopia of romance offered today.